Third Base
by Xelaric the Nobody
Summary: It's ridiculous how obvious it is that Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes have mutual crushes on each other. The faculty ships it, the students ship it, hell, the teachers from other schools ship it. However, Bucky can't seem to bring himself to tell Steve just how much he likes him. Because of that god damned silver band on his ring finger. High School Teachers AU. Rating MAY change.
1. Chapter 1

The bell signaling the end of ninth period rang, and all the students in Steve's ninth period class haphazardly packed up their things and bolted for the door. He, too, had to be on his way because baseball season was upon the private school, and he had a team to coach. Steve, however, took a bit more time than usual packing up because of his hopes of seeing one particular auto mechanic teacher.

Ever since Marvelle Academy had come back from winter break, every so often, James Buchanan Barnes would come to Steve's classroom (on the complete opposite side of the building, he might add) after the bell for ninth period rang. Bucky, as Steve started to call him, would usually come with some sort of history book in his hands that he had bought for Steve. The blond was always surprised at the gesture, even though at this point Bucky had bought him three other books. Steve thought it was endearing.

As if the thought of it summoned him, Bucky knocked on the open door with yet another book in his hand. Steve gestured him in, and the brunet pushed his long bangs out of his face. His outfit today wasn't much different than on any other given day; he wore a t-shirt that was splattered with grease and oil as were his loosely fitting jeans. The ends of his jeans were lazily tucked into his work boots, and his long hair was messily thrown into a knot at the back of his head. Steve looked up at his face and couldn't help but grin; the idiot had a streak of oil smudged on his cheek. Bucky's blue eyes were framed with dark lashes, and Steve watched as they darted away from his as the brunet held out the book to him.

" _Another_ book?" Steve asked in genuine surprise. "Bucky, you really don't have to—"

"It was nothing really," he cut the blond off. "I saw it while I was out this weekend, and I was pretty sure you didn't have this one yet, so I grabbed it for you."

Steve looked down at it—it was _The Book Thief_ by Markus Zusak. _Another_ World War II era novel. The blond chuckled as he set it down on his desk. "Thanks, Buck. I appreciate it, but you really don't have to keep getting me books. Admittedly, World War two is my favorite topic to teach but seriously. You don't have to go out of your way to get me these books you know."

Bucky played with the frayed end of his shirt sleeve and grinned. "Alright, alright, fine. No more books for Steve Rogers 'cause he's too good for them."

"Aw, c'mon I didn't say it like that—" Steve chuckled and then caught a glance at the clock on the wall above Bucky's head. "Ah, crap I'm going to be late. We're up against Xavier's today." Steve made a face that betrayed his worry about the outcome of the game. Bucky rolled his eyes playfully and punched Steve lightly in the shoulder.

"I'm sure you guys will do fine," he turned as the blond made his way around Bucky. Steve stopped for a moment, opening his mouth to ask if the brunet was going to watch the game, but clamped his mouth shut. Why would Bucky want to watch the game anyways? Marvelle Academy's baseball team sucked and everyone in the _state_ knew it. Bucky wouldn't have cared to see the state's worst team play.

"Steve? Were you going to say something?" Bucky called out, snapping him out of his thoughts. Steve looked over his shoulder at him and gave him a wave.

"Oh, nothing. I'll see you tomorrow."

XXX

To put it lightly, Marvelle Academy's baseball team was no match for the team from Xavier Institute. However, no matter how shit the team was, Bucky went to all the home games. For the most part, parents and younger siblings of the players would be sitting in the stands; occasionally, another teacher would be there, but usually Bucky was the only one. He probably really should have been grading projects for his introductory class, but he couldn't pass up the opportunity of seeing Steven Grant Rogers in a polo and a stupid baseball cap.

So, Bucky sat at the top of the bleachers, distanced from the parents and the younger siblings. He bit his lower lip as he watched the blond behind the face that separated the batter and the umpire from the rest of the team on the bench. Although he was at quite a distance, Bucky could tell that Steve was frustrated and rightfully so. Bucky was pretty sure they hadn't won a game since the beginning of the prior school year. It had been the first game of the season.

And as the batter struck out, the brunet saw Steve hit his forehead against the chain link fence and felt as if he could hear him sigh even across the field. They had just lost. Again.

The boys on the Xavier Institute team cheered, as they had beat Marvelle 12-2. The boys from the Academy, with shoulders slumped, lined up to half-heartedly high five the boys from the other team. The parents in the stands began to disperse and make their way to the parking lot. Bucky rose to his feet as well, and began making his way to the dugout.

Steve was just finishing his spiel to the team as Bucky walked up; Steve was saying something cheesy about how losing wasn't the worst thing in the world. The boys rose to their feet and trudged their way back to the locker room, tossing surprised glances at Bucky as they passed. He knew some of the boys on the team as they were in his class. However, they walked by him without saying a word. Steve turned in his direction, but didn't seem to notice Bucky. The blond was buried in the papers on his clipboard so Bucky took a step closer. Steve looked up.

"Oh!" he said in surprise. The blond's blue eyes seemed to light up, but Bucky was for sure that it was just his imagination. "Didn't expect you to come see the game. Turns out you were wrong. We lost again. Not like that was much of a surprise."

Bucky shrugged. "You can't win 'em all, Cap. Besides, I don't think _anyone_ has beaten Xavier's. I'm pretty sure they've had an undefeated season."

"I guess so," Steve shrugged a shoulder as he picked up his binder of plays. "But it'd be nice to win a game. Or at least tie."

The two started walking back towards the school together in comfortable silence. Then, Bucky thought of something that tugged his lips up at the corners. He glanced up at Steve.

"How about I make a deal with you, Mr. Rogers?" The brunet smirked as he looked up at Steve.

"What kind of deal?" The blond inquired, sounding wary.

Bucky stopped for a moment. "If the team loses their next home game, _you_ , Mr. Rogers, have to take me out for coffee one day."

At this, Steve raised an eyebrow, in either surprise or question, Bucky didn't know. The blond folded his arms across his chest, his well-muscled arms looking _unfairly_ attractive in his polo. Bucky worried his lower lip, wondering if he had overstepped his boundaries. He panicked for a split second.

Steve smirked as he looked back up at him, and all the air left Bucky's lungs. "And if the team wins?"

The brunet blinked dumbly. "Uh," he said intelligently. "That's—that's up to you. What are you gonna wager?"

"If the team wins the next home game…" Steve started. He stood there for a moment, thinking. Bucky was pretty sure the blond wouldn't ask for something so selfish like a date. He'd probably make him run perimeters around the school with the team during practice. Something stupid like that.

However, Steve Rogers could be full of surprises.

"If the team wins the next home game, then you have to take me out to dinner."

Bucky's eyebrows shot up as soon as he registered what Steve had said. His heart raced in his chest as he stared dumbly at the slightly smug expression on the blond's face. _Say something, you idiot_ , he urged himself.

To his surprise, his voice was steady when he replied. "Then we have ourselves a deal."


	2. Chapter 2

Steve _really_ needed the baseball team to win the next home game.

Tony Stark didn't seem to understand his dilemma.

It was both Steve and Tony's off period, which meant they were monitors in the cafeteria for the time being. When the blond had relayed what had happened after the game yesterday, the chemistry teacher banged his fist on the table and proceeded to laugh.

Steve sat there, flustered. " _What_? Would you quit laughing at me? It really isn't all that funny, Stark."

"'Course it's not." He flashed Steve one of his million dollar smiles. "But _damn_ , you took the opportunity and fucking _ran_ with it."

He gave Tony a stern look. "Language."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Whatever. My point still got across. You saw the opening to make a move, and you did. You are _smooth_."

Steve buried his face in his hands. "That's what I was worried about. I think I may have overstepped my boundaries. He looked shocked when I suggested my side of the bet. Geez, that was stupid of me."

"I wouldn't worry too much about it," Tony insisted as he clapped Steve on the shoulder. The blond groaned, brooding in his seat. "I mean, if he had the balls to dish you out for coffee, then I'm sure he wouldn't mind being dished out something of equal or greater value."

"…I guess so."

"Oh, c'mon, Rogers! Don't give me that BS. The two of you were bound to ask each other out at one point."

The bell had saved Steve from further embarrassment. He sarcastically wished that he and Tony had had more time to speak about his dilemma, however, the blond stated that he really had to run. Couldn't be late for his sixth period AP Unites States history class, now, could he?

Tony had yelled something after him, however, Steve hadn't heard him. The blond wound his way through the narrow halls, back to his classroom. A few students had been waiting outside the door when he arrived, as the door had been locked. Steve unlocked the door, and his students hurried to their seats. One of his students, Peter Parker (who was also on the baseball team), plopped down in his desk in the front. The brunet had eyed something on Steve's desk. Peter pointed to _The Book Thief_.

"Did Mr. Barnes give that to you, Coach?" Peter asked.

Steve furrowed his brow. "He did…why?"

The brunet smirked. "I saw it on his desk ninth period yesterday. And, like, a couple minutes before the end of the period he said he had something to do, and he had that book in his hands."

The history teacher eyed the boy for a moment. What was he getting at, exactly? Steve shrugged internally and blinked at Peter.

"Practice goes until five today, Parker," Steve stated nonchalantly

"What?! Why? We don't have another game until next Tuesday!"

"That's true, but you also have another home game next Friday." And boy, did he need to shape these boys up before then. Otherwise, a certain Mr. Barnes would not have the pleasure of taking him out to dinner.

 **XXX**

Steve blew his whistle to signal the start of the running drills.

To be fair, the boys had started out strong. He had asked them to run two perimeters of the campus. About three quarters of the way through the first perimeter, however, they had started to lose steam.

Steve was running with them (albeit, he was ahead of them) when Peter wheezed from behind him. "Coach…are we…are we _really_ doing another perimeter? We usually…only do… _one_ of these damn things."

The rest of his teammates muttered and cursed in agreement. Steve glanced over his shoulder, quirking an eyebrow at the boys. "Man up," he stated. Then, he added as an afterthought: "Watch your language."

The team responded in sporadic groans and mutterings of protest. They had managed to run the rest of the first perimeter and miraculously made their way through the second one. The boys all but collapsed when Steve had called out to them that they were finished. The only one who seemed as if he could go for another to perimeters was Pietro Maximoff, who had made himself known as a track star. Steve asked that they stretched out before diving into their other drills.

XXX

Bucky paused from grading tests when he heard the distant shriek of a whistle. He glanced out the window, smiling to himself. The disadvantage to the location of the garage was that it was _so_ far away from Steve's history classroom. The advantage to the location of the garage was that it was _so_ close to the sports fields. More importantly, when he looked outside the window next to his desk, Bucky had a perfect view of the baseball diamond.

Had he purposely positioned his desk next to this particular window?

 _Maybe_.

When Bucky looked out the window, he saw Steve calling out instructions and pointers to the boys as they took their places, as if doing a scrimmage. The brunet scrunched up his brow. He was pretty sure that Steve had never done a scrimmage during practice. Like, _ever_. Sure, they had scrimmaged against other teams. But usually during regular practices after school, the blond had had them focus on one or two particular skills, like pitching and batting, or playing outfield and stealing bases. Bucky bit his lower lip in thought.

" _If the team wins the next home game, then you have to take me out to dinner."_

He nearly flung his red pen across the spacious room in realization. He didn't, but he did drop it suddenly. Was Steve pushing the team just for the sake of them winning, or was he pushing them to win so that Bucky would take him out to dinner? The brunet bit the inside of his cheek as he blushed.

What was the big deal anyway? Even if the team _lost_ Steve still scored a date with Bucky anyways. It was a win-win bet. Why was he making his poor team suffer through extra drills?

Bucky chuckled to himself. Because Steve loved challenges and bets and competitions; he refused to lose (if he could help it). He constantly got mixed up in bets with Tony Stark; the blond usually won. Bucky wasn't so sure how this bet would end up. If the team somehow miraculously won, the brunet would be in a sticky situation as he didn't really have anything nice enough to wear out to dinner.

He knew he wouldn't be able to focus on grading his class's test anymore, so he scooped them up and threw them in a folder. Bucky tucked it under his arm and got up to leave. When he crossed the threshold of the door he nearly jumped out of his skin due to Natasha Romanov standing right outside.

"Jesus, Nat," Bucky breathed as he clutched his chest. "Don't scare me like that, I nearly had a heart attack."

The redhead stared at him as if she hadn't heard him. She spoke as if she hadn't heard him either. "Steve was talking about you earlier."

Bucky's heart skipped a beat. That could've meant a whole lot of things; Steve could have talked highly of him, or badly of him. The brunet found the latter hard to come across; Steve was the literal embodiment of a golden retriever puppy. But what was it that the blond could've said about him? Did he even want to know?

"What'd he say?" Bucky asked cautiously.

Nat smirked. _Oh no_ , Bucky worried internally. "He was talking with Stark earlier, and he had said that Steve was worried about some bet you guys made; something about 'overstepping personal space' or something."

The brunet chuckled and bit his lip to keep himself from bursting into a fit of laughter. Of course only Steve would worry about something like that. Bucky ended up laughing out loud. Leave it to Steve to worry about the little things.

Natasha quirked an eyebrow in questioning. "I really don't understand what you find so hilarious. Your potential boyfriend slash potential husband was worried about being too personal. Isn't that a little concerning?"

"Maybe something related to a personal issue ruined his last relationship; how should I know?" Bucky inquired as he and Natasha started walking out of the building together. "Besides, Nat, I've never actually been on a date with him before, unless you want to count all the times I go to his classroom to give him a book."

She shrugged. "What was this bet you made with him?"

He felt the color rise to his cheeks. "I bet that if the baseball team loses their next home game, that he'd have to take me out for coffee. And he bet that if they won, I'd have to take him out to dinner."

"Well, I know what you're getting next weekend, and it's not getting laid," Natasha huffed. Bucky choked on his own spit as he processed her words. "Coffee, Bucky, really? That's the best you could come up with?"

The pair had made it outside to one of the side entrances. Bucky pulled out his keys and held his arms out as if in defeat. "To be fair, I sorta panicked. Don't tell me you've never panicked when talking to Clint."

Nat's eyes went wide in surprise, although nothing else in her expression portrayed this. She opened her mouth to say something, closed it, opened it again with her finger held up in objection, and closed it again in a tight line. She scowled. "You win this round, Barnes."

He smirked. "When do I not?" And without letting her quip back, Bucky sat himself in the driver's seat of his car and brought the engine to life. He sarcastically waved to Natasha as he drove past her, the redhead's arms crossed over her chest. The brunet smirked in triumph.

On his way out, Bucky drove past the baseball diamond, and slowed so that he wouldn't _fucking crash_ (he didn't crash last time! He _almost_ did!) as he looked. Even from a distance, Bucky could see Steve standing with his hands on his hips as the boys did what looked like pitching and catching drills. He almost felt the urge to roll down the window to call out to the blond, to ask him something along the lines of giving him a ride home, but he fought it. It was only three thirty, and Bucky had heard that their practice would be running long today by one whining Peter Parker. The brunet, instead, drove away; trying—but miserably failing to—keep his eyes off the built blond.

Next Thursday couldn't come soon enough.


	3. Chapter 3

Steve doesn't know how, but by some miracle the Marvelle Academy Avengers won their first game of the season.

Sad to say, it wasn't a home game. It was an away game against the Gotham High Bats.

Despite this, Steve was ecstatic nonetheless. The team was too, as if their whooping and yelling wasn't any indication. The blond wasn't in the mood to give them a lecture about winning one but not winning them all, so he sat at the front of the bus on the way back to the school, contemplating whether or not he should send Bucky Barnes a message on their victory. He stared at his phone.

Peter Parker popped up in the seat behind him, staring over Steve's shoulder. The brunet tilted his head at his coach.

"Whatcha doing there, Coach?" he asked and Steve knew him well enough to know that it wasn't in innocence.

The blond quickly locked his phone and set it down in his lap. "Checking the time, Parker," he blatantly lied. His phone felt like a heavy weight on his leg, and his mind kept screaming _just text him dammit._

" _Riiight_ ," Peter responded with a smirk. Without another word, he sank into his seat again.

Steve rolled his eyes. That kid was always in everyone's business. He looked back at the phone in his lap, glaring daggers at it as if it was the bane of his existence. Steve picked it up again and unlocked it. He didn't have any messages from a certain shaggy haired brunet, unfortunately. His thumb hovered over the conversation thread labeled "Bucky". He debated with himself but ultimately ended up opening the thread and typing out a message before he backed out.

 _[Sent to Bucky_ _, 5:42 PM] We won against the Bats! You should've seen it, it was a great game. ;)_

Steve regretted it about .2 seconds after the word _delivered_ popped up under the text bubble.

He embarrassedly shoved his phone in the pocket of his shorts and buried his face in his hands. The blond had barely any time to think about what he'd done when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Steve looked away from his phone as he unlocked it and opened up the message thread between him and Bucky. He was almost embarrassed at looking at his own stupid text. He wished he hadn't sent it now. God dammit.

Steve looked at Bucky's message regardless.

 _[Received from Bucky_ _, 5:42 PM] Too bad it wasn't a home game! Maybe you'll be in a winning streak now. If so, I have to find myself something to wear_

Bucky's message was followed with a handful of flirty looking emojis, and Steve felt himself flush. He and the brunet continued to banter—can you even banter over text messages? Maybe it was more along the lines of flirting—as the bus neared the school. Steve probably looked just like another high school student as he stared smiling at his phone, tapping out messages.

The bus came to a stop outside of the boys' locker room. The players got up from their seats and tried to push their way out, anxious to stretch out and move. As the boys got off the bus, Steve did a headcount to make sure that everyone was off. When everyone was, Steve made his way off, but not before thanking the bus driver. The boys were already shuffling towards the locker room. Steve slowed to a stop and pulled out his phone again.

 _[Sent to Bucky_ _, 6:01 PM] Are you still at the school?_

Steve ran his free hand through his hair, a nervous habit he had. He stared silently at his phone as he awaited a response. A new text bubble appeared in the thread.

 _[Received from Bucky_ _, 6:02 PM] No, I left a few hours ago. Sorry I couldn't congratulate you and the team in person_ _:(_

Steve's heart fluttered at the little frowny face and a stupid grin cracked his features in two. He was too busy typing out a reply to Bucky to notice Peter Parker and Wade Wilson sneaking up on him. Steve felt a tap on his shoulder, and when he turned to look who it was, he felt his phone leave his hand.

The blond's heart dropped into his stomach as he turned to see Wade with his phone in his hand. Wade waved the phone around. "Oooh, who're ya texting, Coach?"

Steve flashed his eyes at Peter who was giggling. His blue eyes darted to the boy who had his phone. "C'mon, Wilson, just give it back to me please."

Wade looked like he was considering it for a moment before he looked at the screen of Steve's phone. Steve felt his soul leave his body. Peter scampered over to his friend, peering over the other boy's shoulder. Steve started to make his way over to the two of them to snatch his phone back, but not before they had gotten a good look at the message thread.

Steve plucked his phone out of Wade's hands. The younger blond did his best impressions of a puppy who had just been scolded. Peter, on the other hand, was grinning from ear to ear. Steve flushed as he shoved his phone in his pocket.

"I knew it!" Peter was laughing and all smiles. "Wade, our coach has a puppy dog crush on a certain Mr. Barnes."

Steve dragged an exasperated hand down his face. "One day you boys will be the death of me." He mumbled under his breath.

"Coach, not to be obnoxious or anything," Peter started. "But I think everyone and their mother knows that you have a thing for Mr. Barnes."

At this point, Steve buried his face in both of his hands, trying to conceal the red flush that had seeped into every part of his face. He groaned. "Am I really that obvious?"

Both boys made a gesture as if to say "sorta" or "maybe". The history teacher ran his hands through his hair again, screwing it up even more. He started to mumble incoherently. Wade and Peter shared a look and then glanced back at their exasperated coach.

"Hey, uh, coach?" Peter started. "If it makes any difference, Wade and I won't tell him. Or anyone for that matter."

Wade furrowed his brow, puzzled, and looked at the brunet. "But didn't you _just_ say that everyone and their mother knew—"

Peter smacked him upside the back of his head without changing expression. Wade yelped in pain and swatted at Peter's shoulder and arm with both hands. Peter half-heartedly smacked at the blond's arm while looking at his coach.

"I promise, he won't hear a word of it."

* * *

Friday came faster than Bucky realized it. Before he knew it, the bell signaling the end of ninth period rang, and he found himself making his way to the baseball diamond.

Bucky strode across the soccer field towards the bleachers. From across it, he saw Steve standing over his crouched team behind the cage. He looked like he was giving them a pep talk or something so he thought it best not to interrupt the moment. Besides, he would be able to talk to the blond after the game (hopefully). The brunet turned towards the bleachers, hiked up to the top bench, and took a seat. He was one of the only people sitting in the bleachers, along with what looked like two pairs of parents. He watched as the team broke up to take practicing positions.

However, Bucky noticed that two of the boys on the team hung back for a moment near the cage. They were looking over at the bleachers as if in some sort of trance. Bucky was pretty sure one of them was Peter Parker and that the other one was the blond he always saw with him in the cafeteria—Wade, was his name? Anyways, the two boys were staring at the stands, and then quickly whipped their heads around to face their coach. Wade extended his arm with his finger pointed in the direction of he stands, his voice loudly echoing across the field. Bucky was too far away to clearly hear what the boy was saying, but Bucky did catch "Coach" and "your boyfriend". Peter smacked the other boy in the shoulder as Steve froze in his place. Bucky bit his lower lip to keep from laughing out loud. He covered his mouth with one hand and waved at the three of them with his other hand. Wade looked at his coach, said something to him, then looked back at the stands again, and pointed at Bucky this time. After a moment, Steve buried his face in one hand and waved back at Bucky with the other.

After Steve got over his embarrassment, he barked at the two boys to go practice. They scrambled to get in their positions. Not long after, the bus carrying the opposing team arrived. Bucky couldn't tell what school they were from, but they looked like a damn good team if he ever saw one. They had almost twice the amount of boys as Marvelle had, and they all looked like track stars. Bucky guessed from the colors on their uniforms that they were the Keystone City High Flashes. He worried his lower lip; that wasn't a good sign for Marvelle. The brunet knew that the Flashes had a record of ultimately annihilating the competition.

The game began after the Flashes got to have a few minutes to warm up. The opposing team was up to bat first, and Bucky sighed as they scored 3 runs before the Avengers were able to get them out. It was already off to a bad start.

Four innings later, and the Avengers seemed to be doing okay. They were only a few runs behind the Flashes (the score at that point was 3-5), but Bucky could see that Steve was tearing himself up over their inevitable loss. When he looked over at the blond coach, he was leaning his forehead against the chain-link cage with his fingers threaded through the openings, watching the game with wide eyes. Every now and then he would take his baseball cap off, card his finger through his hair nervously, and readjust the hat back on his head.

Bucky couldn't help but feel a little bad for him; Steve looked like he was about to explode from all the stress he looked to be under. He also couldn't help but feel as if some of the stress was partly his fault. Bucky _was_ the one to make the bet in the first place; but Steve couldn't possibly harbor feelings for Bucky on a romantic level enough to stress him out over a stupid date, right?

The game ended five innings later, with a score of 5-8. The coaches shook hands and said farewells, and the little amount of people in the stands started to disperse. Bucky lingered on the stands for a moment, waiting for Steve to finishing speaking to the boys. After a few minutes, the team trudged to the locker room, leaving Steve by the cage. Bucky started walking towards him, smiling as he neared the blond.

Steve mustered up a tired smile. "Guess I owe you a coffee date, huh?"

"Guess so," Bucky shrugged a shoulder, a dumb grin splitting the features of his face. "It's too bad, I was looking forward to taking you out to dinner."

The smile fell from Steve's face, and he mumbled something like, "Yeah, me too." The brunet slung his arm around the coach's shoulder and playfully tapped it.

"Hey, don't worry about it. The boys did a great job today," he started. "I know it didn't turn out like you wanted, but the upside is that we can still go out for coffee this weekend. Besides, I'd be up to take you out to dinner anytime; bet or no bet."

Bucky really wished he'd shut up. He bit his lip as he watched Steve's entire face go red, starting at his cheeks and going all the way up to the tips of his ears. Bucky felt himself flush too.

Steve gave a small, genuine smile this time. "I'll take you up on that offer."


	4. Chapter 4

James Buchanan Barnes had the fashion sense of a fifteen year old middle class white boy. Meaning, he could probably go like, four days, wearing the same pair of jeans with the occasional change of his t-shirt. That, however, would not fly on his coffee date.

Bucky, standing in the t-shirt he slept in and a pair of boxers, glanced at the clock in his cramped bedroom; Steve would be picking him up in an hour or so, and the brunet was tearing his hair out over what to wear. Most of his jeans had oil stains on them, and the few pairs that didn't, were ripped. Would Steve care if they were ripped or not? Probably not, but every minor problem seemed to be catastrophic to him. Bucky was really hoping all went well on this date, enough so that they could possibly go on another one. Okay, Bucky hoped that they could _start dating_ if this date was successful enough.

He continued to glare daggers at his array of jeans spread out over his bed. He grabbed a pair that was not stained and not really that ripped (only at the knees!), and pulled them up over his boxers. Bucky then threw off his t-shirt and narrowed his eyes at the closet.

Bucky only owned about 2 nice shirts; they were both dress shirts. He didn't want to wear one of those, but he also didn't want to go in just a plain t-shirt. He did, however, own quite a selection of flannel shirts. So Bucky tugged on a (clean, oil stain free) grey t-shirt and a red and black flannel. He looked himself over in the bathroom mirror and gave himself the okay. Bucky tied his hair back in a bun, leaving his bangs to fall in his face.

The brunet left the bathroom and stared at the clock in his tiny kitchen; Steve would be here any minute. He looked to the island in the kitchen to make sure the book he got the blond was there. It was. It was another World War Two era novel, and he hoped that Steve would like it (Bucky was 99 percent certain that he would). Bucky smiled to himself and thought that today would go great.

Then there was a knock at his door.

And his stomach dropped.

"B-be there in a minute!" Dammit, he stuttered. Bucky took a deep breath and grabbed the book off the island. He made his way to the door and took a second to prep himself before opening it. Bucky swung the door open and his eyebrows shot up.

Steve was standing on the other side of the doorway, a bouquet of lavender roses in his hand. The blond was sporting a dark blue leather jacket (that should've been _illegal_ it fit him so damn nice), a dark grey t-shirt, and a pair of light wash jeans. He ran his free hand through his blond locks, and Bucky saw that he was starting to go red in the face.

"I got these for you," Steve mumbled under his breath, holding the bouquet out to Bucky. The brunet smiled and bit his lip, holding up the book he got for Steve. The blond's face lit up in surprise.

"I'll trade ya."

The two of them exchanged their gifts, and Bucky narrowed his eyes at the bouquet in his hands. "I'm not sure if I even have a vase to put these in."

"Well," Steve started, doing that half smile of his. "Maybe you should get one, because I guarantee that there will be more where that came from."

The gears in Bucky's head turned as he processed what the blond had just said. He felt the heat rise in his face as he turned to gently place the bouquet on the counter behind him.

"Just take me out to this coffee shop already before my head explodes, Rogers," Bucky mumbled as he moved past Steve into the hallway, closing the door behind him. The blond's laugh echoed down the hallway, making Bucky's stomach flutter. He really was completely unprepared for Steven Grant Rogers' uncanny _adorableness_.

The two of them made their way down a few flights of stairs and out to Steve's car. Bucky looked up and down the street, trying to guess which car was Steve's. It was probably the grey station wagon to their right, because that's the type of car he would peg Steve to have. But he didn't want to just walk right up to it if he was wrong.

"Which one's yours?" he asked Steve nonchalantly.

Steve was trying to suppress his grin, but it wasn't really working, so he sort of looked like an idiot. A cute idiot. "This one."

He had walked right up to a 1960 red Thunderbird and tapped the side of the car. Bucky looked at the blond in utter astonishment. The car was in great condition. It looked as if it were brand new (Steve must've paid a _fortune_ to have it restored). Bucky walked up to it, almost like he was in a trance, and ran his hand along the roof of the car. Steve was looking at him with that look of his, almost like he was a kid looking into a candy shop and grinning from ear to ear.

"You're lying to me. This can't be your car," Bucky said after a moment.

Steve held up his keys. "Oh, but it is."

Bucky shook his head and smiled. The damn bastard was using the car to impress him. And hell, was it working.

"How come I've never seen you drive this thing, like, ever?" Bucky asked. "This car is _gorgeous_."

Steve shrugged a shoulder. "I don't like driving it to the school because you know how the seniors drive; like idiots. So, I only really like to drive around in this when I'm off, or for special occasions."

Steve Rogers was _killing_ Bucky with his obviousness _. I can't believe this is the man I want to date, he's so ridiculously beautiful and has great taste in cars_ , Bucky thought as he told Steve to just "take him out on this date already".

* * *

Steve was having the time of his life on this coffee date.

And all he had to do was lose a bet.

Steve and Bucky picked a little booth in the corner of the little coffee shop. The shop itself was quiet, and that's why Steve picked it. Not only was it a nice shop, it also wasn't constantly over crowded like the Starbucks around the corner from the school. People came and went, some college kids set up their laptops and ordered several espresso drinks. Steve loved it. And he knew Bucky would love it too.

So, the two of them ordered drinks (which Steve paid for, since it was part of the bet. Bucky nearly forgot and almost insisted that he paid) and sat down in the little booth. Bucky had his mug encircled by his hands, staring down into it with a soft smile. Steve couldn't help but continue to just admire him; Bucky's dark hair was pulled back into a loose knot at the back of his head, his bangs hanging loosely and framing his face. He had stubble on his cheeks, like he hadn't shaved in a few days, but Steve was into it— _really_ into it. Bucky was wearing a simple flannel over a t-shirt, both of which were a little tight around his well-muscled shoulders that made Steve bite his lower lip. Steve's eyes traveled higher to Bucky's lips and thought just how kissable they looked, and how it was such a shame that he wasn't kissing them _right now_. His eyes traveled higher to find that Bucky's ice blue eyes were looking directly into his; he had been caught staring.

Steve shook his head to clear his mind _. Don't get caught up, this is only the_ first _date._ "Sorry, I—you're just…y-you look really good is all."

 _Smooth, Rogers_. Steve wanted to bash his head into a wall.

Bucky smiled and tried to hide it behind his hand. It didn't work very well. Steve could hear him chuckling.

"You know Natasha, right? Teaches AP psychology?" Bucky started. Steve didn't know what this had to do with anything, but he nodded. He knew vaguely of the scary-looking, Russian redhead that terrorized the psych students. Tony had said she was a real piece of work.

Bucky continued. "She told me you were talking about me to Stark the other day. I didn't ask her to give me updates on you, trust me, but she told me you wouldn't shut up about your dilemma with our bet."

"Well, I mean—" Steve didn't really know what to say. He never knew how obvious he was when it came to this sort of stuff. Steve felt his face flush. "I was just nervous because I thought maybe my side of the bet was too much. You had only suggested coffee, and suggesting a dinner date seemed really pushy and out of bounds of the bet—"

Bucky interrupted him. "You know, Steve, bet or no bet…I would've loved to have taken you out anyways." He paused for a moment and played with a strand of his bangs. "You really don't know how long I've been dying to ask you out. Like, all those books I bought for you? Just excuses to come talk to you. The only way I felt I could ask you out was a wager. I know how much you love competitions and bets, so I took the opportunity."

Steve went to twist the ring he usually wore on his finger (a nervous habit of his) but it wasn't there. He remembered he had left it in his back with his gear for practice in his other car. He played with his hands instead before replying. "I've liked you for a really long time too, Buck. Trust me, there were so many times that I thought of asking you out, but I wasn't sure if I was ready to start dating again."

Steve realized he had said a bit too much, and he really hoped the brunet sitting across from him wouldn't prod too deep, or at all for that matter. Bucky looked him dead in the eyes, his brow scrunched up. Bucky must've read the situation (either that, or he saw Steve's shoulders tense up, his hands curl into tight fists) and chose to let it go.

"I don't want to rush into anything," Bucky said at last. It made Steve relax a little. The blond reached for his hand across the table, rested it on Bucky's, as if to tell him thanks.

The two of them sat in the coffee shop for a while, talking about nothing and everything at the same time. Steve learned that Bucky had been working on cars ever since high school, and how much he loved taking things apart just to put them back together again. They talked about Steve's car, what they were both like in high school, and what their parents were like. It felt like Steve had known Bucky his whole life, when they had only met a few years ago, when Bucky landed a teaching job at Marvelle Academy.

It wasn't until around dinner time that Bucky said he should get back to his apartment, for he had projects to grade. At this, Steve remembered the stacks of tests and papers he had to grade, and he agreed that it would be best to get home. The pair left the coffee shop and into Steve's Thunderbird.

Steve parked in front of Bucky's apartment complex and looked at the brunet in the passenger's seat. Steve was staring at his eyes, his lips, and then back to his eyes again. His heart was pounding. Before Bucky could get his hand on the door to get out, Steve leaned over, kissing Bucky lightly on the cheek. Then he realized what he did.

Steve's face most likely turned an ungodly shade of red, from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He apologized, saying he didn't know why he did that, and Bucky just laughed. The brunet then leaned over and kissed Steve on the cheek back. Steve's brain broke.

"I'll see you Monday, Cap."

Steve couldn't wait until Monday.

* * *

The weekend seemed to drag by for Steve. It felt like he hadn't seen Bucky in ages. In reality, it had only been 56 hours and four minutes, but who was counting, right?

Steve currently had his ninth period AP United States history class doing book work. It was one of the few times of the year he assigned anything out of the ancient textbook—seriously, the things were nearly 20 years old. Did the school not have the funds to replace these things? It was ridiculous—and his classroom was nice and quiet. Quiet enough so that Steve could read one of the novels Bucky had given him.

Since their date on Friday afternoon, Steve had found the energy to tear through grading most of the document based question essays he had given his two sets of AP US kids, and had started grading the ones from his AP European history classes. He barely slept Friday night, as he was on such an adrenaline rush. Steve had finally gone out on a date with someone for the first time since Peggy, and it felt good. He smiled to himself as he read _The Book Thief_.

The bell for dismissal rang, and Steve bid his class a good afternoon. He stuck a post-it note on the page he was on, and corralled his papers into a few different folders. He picked up his duffel bag and headed in the direction of the gymnasium. Steve hummed under his breath and walked lightly through the hallways, shoulders squared, with a stupid smile on his face. He stopped in front of Bucky's classroom; there was loud music playing from a speaker on his desk, and the brunet was hunched over his gradebook and little trinket looking things. Steve decided that maybe he would stop by after practice. Bucky looked busy.

Steve had changed into his cargo shorts, a red polo, and a pair of Nikes (which he would trade any day for his classroom attire). He tugged on his Marvelle Academy Avengers cap and snatched his clipboard from his bag. The blond then made his way outside to the baseball diamond, once again humming a random tune, the same stupid smile plastered on his features.

Peter watched as Coach Rogers emerged from the locker room with a bit of a bounce to his step. He had this almost out of character smile on his face, and he was humming. Peter scrunched up his eyebrows and elbowed Wade in the ribs.

"Coach Rogers seems…different."

Wade took one look at their coach and rolled his eyes at Peter. "Uh _duh_ , Sherlock. What do you _think_ has him in such a good mood?"

Peter shrugged. "Mr. Barnes?"

Wade held up his index finger, as if to say _bingo._ His features were smug looking. "Coach Rogers obviously got laid."

"You're _gross_ , Wade!"

"Whaaaat, it's a beautiful part of the circle of life!"

Peter hushed Wade as Steve got within earshot of the two of them. But Wade was whispering shit in his ear, like did Coach Rogers top or bottom? Was he loud? Was _Mr. Barnes_ loud? Peter wished he would _stop for Christ's sake_ because he didn't want the mental image of two of his favorite teachers sleeping together burned into his brain.

"What's got you in such a good mood, coach?" Peter asked, to get Wade to stop asking him gross questions. "We just lost our last game. And we're up against the Jump City Titans next week…"

Steve looked at his team. "What, I just can't be in a good mood? And besides, Jump City isn't all that great; besides, I'm proud of you boys, win or lose. I'm sure we could tie with them."

The players exchanged confused and worried glances with each other. What had gotten into Coach Rogers that changed his whole outlook on winning and losing? Wade would probably answer that with "Mr. Barnes". Peter's face was burning because of the image that flashed behind his eyes.

He hated Wade.

After Steve called for attendance, he set the boys off on some drills. They were pretty basic running drills, just to get their blood pumping, and Peter expected that they would increase in difficulty.

Peter was wrong.

They didn't do much else besides another scrimmage, but it felt much more relaxed than the last scrimmage they played against each other. Occasionally, Steve would call out pointers to the boys, almost with a dream-like look in his eyes. The coach almost got knocked upside the head with the ball more than once.

Peter was worried that if this kept up, they wouldn't ever be able to win (or tie for that matter) with another team ever again.

* * *

James Buchanan Barnes was ecstatic.

He couldn't believe that Steven Grant Rogers had _actually_ went on a date with him, had _actually_ kissed him (only on the cheek, but it still counted!). And the prospect of another date with the beautiful blond history buff was definitely not a far-fetched idea. Bucky would be lying if he hadn't thought about going on another date with Steve. Or another three dates. Or five. Bucky was just so happy that he could be himself with the blond; Bucky had always had trouble trying to sort out his romantic feelings for people. When he himself was in high school, he had dated only girls. He didn't want his friends to think anything less of him because he wasn't sexually (or romantically, for that matter) into chicks. None of those relationships ever worked.

Then he went away to college. Bucky totally dropped the act of pretending to be into girls, because he found that people in college didn't really care who you had sex with. He was into hookups. It was exhilarating. He didn't have any "relationships" that lasted longer than a month. Bucky had met Natasha in college, had quickly become friends with her. But she told him that hooking up with someone new every weekend wasn't good for his health, mentally or physically.

So Bucky stopped with the hookups and the one night stands. He had had one serious relationship after graduating college, but that was about it. Every once in a while, he would hookup with someone he met through one of those dating apps. But those were short lived, and Bucky never saw any of them again after sleeping with them.

Bucky had a serious commitment problem, but he was hoping Steve would help him fix it.

With Steve, things were different.

And Bucky was happy that things were going his way for once.

Bucky was pulled out of his happy place and brought back to reality; his classroom door slammed shut behind one scary-looking Natasha Romanov, and his gradebook was out in front of him, projects to his right. Bucky looked up at the psychology teacher, turned his music down. She may have looked mad or annoyed, but he knew that that was Nat's chronic resting bitch face. She couldn't help it.

"What is it, Nat?" Bucky asked, no undertone of annoyance or teasing in his voice. The redhead quirked an eyebrow.

"Not gonna bitch about me barging in here? Who are you, and what have you done with the real James Barnes?" Natasha said dryly, her voice heavily laced with sarcasm. She looked at Bucky for a moment in silence, and her lip twitched up at the ends in an all-knowing smirk.

"Maybe I was wrong about what I said the other day."

"Wrong about what?"

"About you not getting laid this weekend."

Bucky coughed, surprised (but not really—more like caught off guard) and swatted at Nat. He missed. He buried his burning face in his hands. "Why must you assume that I'm in a good mood because you think Steve screwed me?"

Nat rolled her eyes as if it were an obvious answer. "Because that's possibly the only thing on earth that could make you _this_ happy."

Bucky stopped grading projects (which he wasn't really even grading them—more like inspecting them and giving them a 90 or more. He was in such a good mood that he wanted to share that good mood with his students). He looked at Nat with a bitch face to rival hers.

"Nat, I'm not rushing into anything, even with Steve," Bucky told her. "He said something about not being out and dating for a while, and I don't want to push him into anything that he's not ready for. And that _includes_ doing him."

Nat looked at him. "You're really serious about Steve, aren't you?"

"Completely."

Natasha smiled for a half a second, and then it was gone. "Alright, lover boy, I'll see you at the faculty meeting later."

* * *

Steve never really liked faculty meetings. Before, he had told himself that it was a chance to see Bucky, before the whole bet was a thing. Now it was an _even better_ excuse to see Bucky.

Steve was always early to these things, but he was surprised to find that Tony and his friend, Sam Wilson, were already there. Tony smirked at him and raised his eyebrows as Steve took a seat next to him.

"I was just telling Sam about that bet you had made with Mr. Barnes." Tony's expression was smug. Sam, on the other hand, looked mildly intrigued. Steve was just embarrassed.

Steve looked at Sam. "I swear, the two of us just went on a coffee date. Nothing. Else. Happened."

"Haven't you been eyeing him ever since he started teaching here a few years ago? You only just managed to go out with him? Over a _bet_?" Sam's voice sounded incredulous.

Steve folded his arms across his chest. "It's not like I knew he was into guys. You guys obviously wouldn't know, but it's hard for me to ask people out."

"Especially when they're hot, rugged auto-mechanic teachers who have a soft spot for hot, blond, history buffs like yourself," Tony added nonchalantly. Steve buried his burning face in his hands; his friends were not helpful in the slightest.

Other teachers began to file in. Every time the door opened, Steve looked up, a hopeful glint in his eye. However, Bucky still hadn't shown up. Steve pressed his lips together in a line, trying to suppress the frown that was fighting its way onto his features.

Nick Fury, the principal, walked towards the front of the room, and a sort of hush fell over the teachers. It was at this moment that one Bucky Barnes decided to slip into the room, trying to go for an unnoticeable entrance. He failed miserably, however. Every single pair of eyes was on the auto-mechanics teacher, most definitely including Steve's blue eyes.

"Sorry, Fury," Bucky mumbled as he slid into the seat next to Steve.

"Don't let it happen again, or I'll have your ass, Barnes," Fury growled.

Tony snickered. "Steve's already got it," he whispered to the blond. Steve elbowed him hard without taking his eyes off of Bucky. And then the meeting began.

Steve wasn't really paying attention to the words coming out of Fury's mouth, because his mind was a little too occupied with Bucky holding his hand tightly under the table. Steve was smiling like an idiot, because seriously, two grown ass men holding hands under the table at a faculty meeting? What were they, kids? But Steve wasn't complaining. The two of them kept looking at each other, as if speaking telepathically back and forth. Tony kept rolling his eyes at the two of them, but Steve didn't care.

Steve only cared when _Fury_ rolled his eyes.

"Would the both of you _cut it out_ with the lovey dovey shit? I can't concentrate with the both of y'all sitting there making goo-goo eyes at each other."

There was a moment of silence that let the embarrassment seep into the two teachers before everyone in the room proceeded to _lose their shit_.

Tony leaned over to and told Steve between bouts of laughter, "C'mon, you really didn't see this happening?"

The only one who wasn't laughing was one of the gym teachers, Thor Odinson. He looked thoroughly confused.

"I do not get what all the laughter is about," Thor semi-yelled over the laughter in the meeting room. Both Bucky and Steve seemed to relax. Until Bruce Banner, one of the physics teachers, leaned over and whispered to Thor what exactly had just happened. The laughter died when Thor's eyes lit up, pleasantly surprised.

"CONGRATULATIONS, STEVEN AND JAMES!" The blond gym teacher practically screamed as soon as the last bit of laughter was silenced. Bucky slammed his head down on the table and groaned as laughter filled the room once more. Even Fury seemed to crack a smile. Steve was so god damn embarrassed, but he looked at Bucky, his head banging against the table, and he laughed a bit too. He looked quite adorable, flustered and all.

Maybe the teasing wasn't such a bad thing after all


	5. Chapter 5

Bucky Barnes was the happiest he had ever been in his entire life.

After the first coffee date, he and Steve had been meeting up every weekend. More often than not, they would go to that exact coffee shop in the exact same booth. Sometimes they would end up back at Steve's place (okay, they ended up at Steve's place more often than Bucky would like to admit).

Bucky had stayed the night over at the blond's apartment several times in the month that they had been seeing each other. Bucky loved waking up on a Saturday morning curled up against Steve's chest, with the late spring sunshine slanting through the blinds in Steve's bedroom. It was bliss, and it was everything Bucky had been wanting.

They told each other that they didn't want to rush into anything, but to them it didn't really feel like rushing; their relationship felt completely natural to them. However, they wanted to keep things pretty quiet, so as to not bring attention to themselves in front of students. They were doing a pretty good job. Until Bucky went to see Steve on their off periods.

The door to Steve's classroom was open, but the blond's head was hovering over some papers. Bucky knocked lightly on the door. Steve's face turned to look up at him, and he smiled. He got up from his chair as Bucky walked into the room, closing the door behind him.

"Miss me already, Barnes?" Steve chuckled as they came together in an embrace.

Bucky grinned as he pressed his lips to Steve's. "Maybe just a little bit."

Bucky kissed him again, more aggressively this time, and he felt Steve melt against him. The blond's hands slid up Bucky's back, up his neck, and found holds in his loose hair. Steve backpedaled slowly so that he was leaning against his desk. One of Bucky's hands was on the desk, one on Steve's lower back, and he pulled Steve closer to him. Their breath mingled together as the brunet bit Steve's lower lip which caused him to moan. Bucky's hand migrated from the desk to Steve's thigh. The history teacher's fingers tightened in Bucky's hair and pressed himself against Bucky's chest.

Bucky felt as if electricity was striking every nerve in his body at the same time; he hadn't felt like this since college. He couldn't believe that Steve was with him like this; he couldn't believe that this wasn't the _first time_ Steve was with him like this. All those Friday nights spent in the blond's apartment had mostly ended like this, like they were both in high school again and couldn't get enough of each other. Every minute of it was exhilarating.

Adrenaline coursed throughout him, and his kissing was getting sloppy. Steve didn't seem to notice or care; Bucky's lips trailed away from Steve's, down toward his jaw and then his neck. Steve's head fell back, eyes closed, mouth parted. Bucky's grip tightened on the fabric of Steve's dress shirt as he continued to lightly bite the blond's neck.

It wasn't until the both of them heard the door slam shut that they stopped.

Steve pushed against Bucky's chest, and Bucky jumped back, his back against the chalkboard. The two of them stared into the wide, wild eyes of Peter Parker, whose face was burning scarlet. Peter tightly clenched the papers he held in his hand, his mouth agape in horror. The three of them continued to stare at each other in silence until Peter managed to speak.

"I, I should've knocked," Peter squeaked, his eyes darting between his two teachers, and then he completely averted his eyes. He began to shuffle backwards towards the door, but not before Steve cleared his throat.

"Not a word of this to anyone on the team, Parker." His voice sounded firm and steady, but Bucky knew on the inside he was ready to explode out of embarrassment. Peter nodded vehemently and nearly bolted out of the door as soon as he had opened it.

The door slammed shut behind poor, shell-shocked Peter. A moment of silence spanned between the two teachers, and then Bucky laughed at the same time that Steve's face fell into his hands, groaning.

"Well," Steve leaned back on his desk and looked at anywhere but Bucky. "Now we know not to do _that_ in here. Ever."

"Well, maybe not _ever_ again." Bucky teased, which earned him a light punch to the shoulder. Bucky glanced at the clock and swore quietly. He had a class soon. He looked over his shoulder at Steve. "See you later?"

"I'll be here," Steve smiled as he motioned to the stack of folders on his desk, filled with papers that awaited grading.

Bucky walked out of the classroom with the dorkiest grin on his face. He couldn't believe how well things were going between him and Steve.

Until they weren't.

As he promised, Bucky came back after his ninth period class. He left as soon as the bell had rung, and he weaved in and out of the throng of students that took up most of the hallway. By the time he had gotten to Steve's classroom, the thick of the crowd had dispersed but there were stragglers in the hall. Bucky walked into the classroom with another dorky smile on his face.

Steve looked up when he had come in, and he said something in greeting, but the words didn't quite reach Bucky's ears. His eyes were drawn to a gleam of silver on the blond's ring finger.

That's when Bucky's heart crawled into his throat.

He stared and stared at the wedding band on Steve's hand. Had it always been there? Was it new? It took Bucky a moment to process what the ring actually meant. When the gears in his head started to turn, his blood started to boil.

Bucky looked at Steve, and the blond's brow was creased in concern.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked.

Bucky clenched his jaw. Tears started to burn in his eyes. Without a word he spun on his heel and left the classroom. Bucky slammed the door behind him. His hands balled into fists at his sides, his shoulders tense as he stormed back down the hallway in the direction he had come.

Just like that, his world had come crashing down.

XXX

Steve furrowed his brow as he saw the look on Bucky's face change from excitement to shock, and then to anger in a matter of seconds. Bucky's gazed seemed to hyper focus on something at Steve's desk. The blond was confused.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

As if on command, Bucky's jaw clenched, and he stormed out of the classroom, slamming the door behind him. Steve's chair screeched against the tile floor as he instinctively got up. He looked down at his desk, wondering what could have possibly upset his boyfriend. Steve's eyes zeroed in on the silver band on his ring finger. His stomach flipped.

"Shit," he breathed. " _Shit!_ "

Quickly, he followed Bucky out into the hallway. He had just turned the corner when Steve had walked out the door. He called after him but didn't hear anything in response. Steve bolted down the hallway, his mind reeling, his body moving entirely on its own.

How could he have been so _stupid_? Why did he still wear the damn thing? Steve wasn't engaged, and he sure as hell wasn't married. Well, he _had_ been engaged but that was a few years ago. The story was so complicated. Steve wasn't sure he would be able to explain in time before Bucky made up his mind and decided to call it quits on their relationship.

Steve felt like he was going to faint.

He turned down the hallway in the direction of Bucky's classroom and was slightly relieved to find that he had caught up with the brunet. He power-walked to Bucky's side, panting.

"Bucky… _please_ ," Steve said between breaths. "Let me…explain."

The brunet didn't stop. He continued down the hall as if Steve wasn't there. Bucky reached for the door knob of his classroom and hurriedly walked inside. He tried to slam the door shut again, but Steve stopped the door with his hands. The two looked at each other for a moment.

Bucky's blue-gray eyes were glassy, but at the same time they were lit with a fiery anger. His brows pointed downward in something further than anger. Bucky's death grip on the door loosened for a moment and let it swing open. He squared his shoulder and stared Steve in the face.

"Do you think I'm some sort of idiot?" Bucky hissed. "That I'm some, some _plaything_ for you? Do you like playing with me, Rogers?"

When Steve didn't say anything, Bucky continued. "I know what that is; that's a _fucking wedding band_ on your ring finger. You didn't strike me as the sort of guy who would cheat. Do you have a secret family I don't know about too? What the _hell_ is your deal!?"

Bucky's face contorted as he held back tears. He looked to the side, and his eyes dropped to the floor. Steve's stomach dropped. The hurt on Bucky's face was unfathomable; and Steve had _caused it._ The blond continued to stare at him.

Steve knew why he wore the ring; he wore it for his late fiancé. They had been together for years and years before Steve had proposed to her. They were high school sweethearts, practically inseparable. Peggy Carter had been the light of his life, until her health declined due to the long, underlying case of leukemia that had been dormant in her system for years. The illness took her long before they were supposed to get married.

How could he possibly tell Bucky all of that?

"Bucky," Steve started softly. "It's not—"

"It's not? Then what is it?" Bucky snapped. Steve stared, worrying his lower lip. His body shook from nerves and then tension. Steve felt the corners of his eyes begin to burn, along with the blurring at the edges of his vision. After another moment of nothing being said, Bucky huffed with laughter that had no mirth.

"That's what I thought."

Bucky slammed the door shut between them, and this time, Steve didn't try to stop him. The brunet leaned up against the door and slid down to the floor. He rested his forehead on his knees. Bucky bit his lip to keep himself from crying out. A moment later he heard Steve's soft footsteps from outside of the classroom. It sounded like he went for the doorknob but thought better of it. Steve's footsteps faded down the hallway. Only when he was sure Steve was out of earshot that Bucky started sobbing uncontrollably.

His hands gripped the back of his head, pulling at the roots of his hair. Sobs racked his entire body so that he was shaking. The rage and hurt that coursed through his veins felt like it was going to tear Bucky to shreds. He muttered curses under his breath, rocking back and forth on the floor.

How could he let Steve toy with him like this?


	6. Chapter 6

The following day, Steve sat at his desk twenty minutes before first period started. He had thrown himself into grading assignments. His wedding band glinted at him in the harsh fluorescent lighting. Anger bubbled in his chest, and it felt like his throat was closing up.

The pen fell from his hand, and Steve angrily tore off his ring. He opened the top drawer of his desk and dropped it in, slamming it for good measure.

Since Bucky had seen the ring on Steve's hand, Steve wanted to do nothing more than melt the damn thing down and be rid of it. He knew deep down that he could never bring himself to do so, but at the moment Steve wanted nothing to do with it. He leaned back in his chair and stared blankly at the papers on his desk.

Steve glanced at the clock over the door. First period wouldn't start for another ten minutes, which would be just enough time for him to walk down to the tech wing, maybe put a word in with Bucky, and be back just in time for his class. He considered it for a moment. Bucky wouldn't want to see him though, would he? Steve decided against it, and tried to grade at least one more assignment before class started.

Students started to file into the classroom. The bell rang, and Steve instructed class like usual. Forty minutes of pure lecturing, with the occasional raised hand and confused stares. As soon as class begun, it had ended. The students' glazed stares cleared when the bell had rung, and they all hurried out the door. Steve hadn't even bothered to remind then of their homework that was due at the end of the week; hopefully they would remember themselves.

The rest of the week lended itself to this sort of routine: get up, go to work, mindlessly lecture to his students, go to practice, come home, throw himself into grading assignments, and try not to have a nervous breakdown before bed. One week went by like this. Every single time that Steve walked by the classroom at the end of the tech wing he would pause, but continued after a moment. Bucky made it clear that he wanted no part of Steve.

At the end of the week, Steve made his way from his classroom to the baseball diamond. Again, he passed Bucky's classroom in the dimly lit hall, faltering. He wanted so badly to explain that their situation was a huge misunderstanding. He wanted to tell Bucky that no, he was not engaged or married, and that the ring was a reminder of his best girl. Steve's anxiety over the whole thing seemed to prevent him from doing so. He didn't want to push Bucky further away, so he decided to keep his mouth shut.

Steve looked at the door again and carried on outside. The sky was overcast and gray, almost like it was about to pour. Hopefully it wouldn't. Today was the last game of the season. There was a small glimmer of hope incessantly rearing its ugly head in Steve's mind that Bucky would be in the stands like he normally was, as if what happened on Monday was a horrible nightmare that Steve had yet to wake up from.. A quick look at the stands reaffirmed his suspicion. The auto mechanics teacher was nowhere to be seen. His shoulders dropped, and he continued to drag his feet in the dirt.

Most of the boys were on the diamond already, warming up and tossing pitches to each other. Peter's pitch faltered as he watched his coach trudge over to the dugout. The ball landed several feet away from Wade and stopped at his feet.

"What the hell, Pete?" Wade exclaimed loudly. Peter continued to stare at Steve.

"Coach Rogers looks terrible," Peter replied softly. Even from the diamond, Peter could see the horrendous dark circles under Steve's eyes. His complexion looked pale and his eyes red."He looks like he hasn't slept in days."

Wade walked over to Peter and looked to the dugout. He stared at their coach. His tone took on a rare tone of genuine concern. "Man, you're right."

Peter's brow furrowed. He couldn't possibly imagine what it was that had his coach so unlike himself. Coach Rogers was a pretty positive guy. He (unfortunately) knew that he and Mr. Barnes were a thing. From what Peter could tell, Mr. Barnes made Coach Rogers happy. However, Peter noticed that both teachers were not their usual selves in class for the past couple of days. Mr. Barnes seemed to snap at everyone over any little thing, and Coach Rogers seemed uncharacteristically down on himself.

Peter looked to the stands and noticed a lack of people, more so than usual. He didn't see Mr. Barnes anywhere. The lightbulb went off in his head. Before explaining to Wade, Peter ran over to the dugout.

He approached quietly as Steve had his back turned to him. "Uh, Coach?"

Steve glanced over his shoulder, saw it was Peter, and turned around to face him. He said nothing, but raised an eyebrow in response.

"Not to, like, pry or anything," Peter stammered. "But what happened to you and Mr. Barnes?"

Steve's shoulder visibly dropped, and his gaze fell to his shoes. His mouth twisted for a moment before answering almost inaudibly. "It didn't work out."

The brunet blinked stupidly at his coach. Mr. Barnes' foul mood in class all week made sense to him now. Peter wrung his hands together. He wanted to know what happened.

"Why did-"

"Peter." Steve's tone of voice commanded him to shut his mouth. "We're not talking about this. Let's focus on the game today, yeah?"

He nodded, let out a small "sorry", and headed back over to Wade. Steve could see the two of them whispering with each other. He instinctively went to twist his ring, but remembered it wasn't there. Instead, he anxiously ran his fingers through his hair.

The other team arrived a short while later. Usually while the opposing team warmed up, Steve would give the boys a pep talk, but today he didn't have the heart. When the team rounded up in the dugout prepared for a speech, Steve shooed them away and told them to play their best. He noticed the surprised glances and the shrugs and the murmurs, but he didn't say anything about it.

Steve couldn't focus on the game. Not when he was glancing at the stands every five seconds, hoping against hope that Bucky Barnes would be there. The opposing team scored three times before Steve shook himself out of his thoughts.

He felt awful that he wasn't there in full for the team today, seeing as it _was_ the last game of the season. Guilt had weighed down on his shoulders all week, and it wasn't easing up. Steve linked his fingers through the chain link fence that separated the dugout from the diamond and leaned his forehead against it.

Before he knew it, the game was over. The Marvelle Academy Avengers had gotten their asses handed to them one last time. Steve rounded up the team after the game and gave them a half-hearted speech. He said it was a pleasure being their coach for the season and hoped to see familiar faces next season.

The drive home was quiet. The radio in the car had busted halfway through his drive home from work sometime last week and hadn't had a chance to get it looked at. All that could be heard was the rumble of the engine and the whipping wind outside.

He killed the engine in front of his apartment building. The blond sluggishly pulled himself out of the car and up the stairs to his apartment. The key slid in the lock, and he turned it. The door swung open with a faint creak. Steve dropped his bag in the doorway and toed off his shoes. He didn't bother flipping on the lights. Steve trudged into his room and peeled off his coaching attire. His clothes dropped to the floor and kicked them into the corner. Steve pulled a pair of worn grey sweatpants and a white tank top from his dresser and tugged them on. He walked back out into the living room and turned the TV on for background noise and flopped down on the couch to peruse his phone.

Steve opened up the photo album. He scrolled up slowly, running his eyes over every single picture. There were times when he tried go be artsy and take photos of the sunset, but most of them ended up out of focus or the tip of his finger would be covering the lens. Only a handful of them were good. There was a picture of pages of his gradebook and some of his written lessons, just in case he had forgotten either of the books at home. His breath hitched in his throat when he came across pictures of one auto mechanics teacher.

He clicked on a picture of Bucky wearing one of his hoodies, sitting crossed-legged on the floor of Steve's apartment. It was gray, and it read _Marvelle Athletics est. 1971_. His eyes were closed, the corners of them crinkling with laughter. The smile that stretched across his face was lopsided, the left side coming up more than the right. Bucky's hair was half up in a little bun at the back of his head, the rest of it framing his sharp square jaw. The picture had come out a little blurry because Steve had probably been laughing too.

Steve swiped backwards. It was another picture of Bucky. This time it was at the coffee shop where they had their first date. Bucky's blue eyes crossed to look down his nose into the white mug he had lifted to his face. His lips were pursed as if he was about to take a sip. Steve only looked at it for a second before swiping backwards again.

Steve's heart dropped when he saw the next one. It was kind of grainy and dark in the photo, but Steve could still make out what it was. Bucky must have taken his phone when Steve had already fallen asleep. Steve's head rested against Bucky's bare shoulder with his lips slightly parted. Bucky's dark hair covered most of his face as he tilted his head down to kiss the top of Steve's head.

The blond threw his phone down on the coffee table in front of him. He leaned back into the couch, carding his fingers through his hair. Steve's chest felt tight. He hadn't realized that hot tears had started to run down his face. Curling in on himself, Steve bowed his head so that it touched his knees, and he cried.

Bucky was the best thing to happen to him in such a long time, and he went and screwed it up. Screwed it up royally. Steve felt so lost. He didn't know what he was going to do. He was rapidly approaching his thirties, and he had always wanted to have a family. That was shot down when Peggy had been diagnosed, and it still pulled at his heartstrings that he couldn't have started a family with her.

But he could've had that with Bucky. It sounded crazy even to him, but even though he had only known the brunet for a short while, Steve felt at home with him. He felt like Bucky could have been _so much more_ to him. Now Steve couldn't even look him in the face anymore without wanting to cry.

Steve sat up again and furiously wiped at his eyes. He hated the empty feeling in his chest; it felt like he was gasping for air. More silent tears streamed down his face. Steve wanted something, anything to distract him. He glanced at the TV and saw that _The Princess Diaries_ title panned across it. He made for the remote as if he was going to change the channel, but decided not to. Besides, _The Princess Diaries_ was a good movie. _And_ distraction.

He got up to scrounge around the fridge to come up with something to eat. Steve hadn't had time to go grocery shopping yet (that would have to wait for the weekend), and he didn't feel like ordering take out. A pint of chocolate ice cream sat on the top shelf of the freezer. Steve glared at it for a moment, and before he could hate himself anymore, he took it and dug around in the drawer for a spoon.

He sat back down on the couch, ice cream in hand, and let his mind wander as _The Princess Diaries_ opening scene played.

Steve hadn't realized how much time had passed until his spoon hit the bottom of the pint and a knock came at his door. The credits of the movie rolled on the screen. Steve shook his head to clear it, set the empty pint on the coffee table, and headed for the door.

He opened it to reveal Tony Stark. Steve raised an eyebrow in question. Tony ran his eyes up and down the blond, stopping again at his face. Steve must've looked like a train wreck; his hair was disheveled and stuck up at odd angles. His eyes were red and the circles underneath them were dark and pronounced; He was still teary-eyed. There was an obvious chocolate stain on the front of his shirt. Tony peered over his shoulder to look into the living room. He scoffed.

"Chick flicks, Rogers, really?" Tony laughed. "Damn, you need to go out to get your mind off of the whole thing. You're getting yourself so worked up."

The retort stung a little. "Tony, I don't need to go out to get my mind off of it," Steve persisted as he wiped at his eyes. "I'm fine, really."

Tony stood in the doorway of Steve's apartment, arms folded across his chest, eyebrow quirked. It was nearly nine o'clock that Friday night. The blond wanted nothing more than to continue to watch stupid chick flicks and cry his brains out over a pint of his favorite ice cream. He did _not_ want to go to the gross dive bar down the street and get totally shitfaced with his colleague. Tony tapped his foot impatiently.

"C'mon, Rogers, you can't stay holed up in here like a teenage girl after her first break-up!" Tony nearly shouted.

Steve had half a mind to slam the door in his face right then, but he didn't move. He only glared at Tony in the hopes that he looked angry and not upset. It didn't work. Tony's expression softened.

"Look," he started. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. You just shouldn't be stuck in here wallowing in your pit of self-loathing over it. Come out."

The blond mulled it over for a few moments. He wasn't much of a drinker; it took a lot of alcohol in his system for him to even feel a buzz so there really was no point in him drinking for pleasure. On the other hand, Steve knew that if he stayed in tonight that he would be left alone with his thoughts for the fifth consecutive night. That didn't seem appealing to him. Steve sighed.

"Screw it," he mumbled. "I'll get changed, and then let's go."

* * *

Approximately two hours later, Steve Rogers was drunk off his ass.

When they first got to the bar, the blond was intent on only having a drink or two just to humor Tony. Two drinks and three shots later, Steve was having a hard time sitting upright in his barstool. He slouched over onto Tony's shoulder and played with a thread on Tony's shirt, eyes wandering down the line of the bar.

"Steve," Tony started slowly, still nursing his first drink in his hands. "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

"Bucky hates me," Steve mumbled into Tony's shoulder. His words slurred together. "Bucky hates me an' it's my fault. All my fault."

Hot tears stung at the corners of Steve's eyes and blurred his vision even more than with the alcohol in his system. Tony looked down at him, eyebrow raised in question.

"What did you do?"

Steve slid further down his shoulder. "My ring! That stupid, stupid ring, Stark. I wore it and he saw it and he got really, really mad-I mean _reeeally_ mad-I've never seen him so mad before. I think he hates me, like _loathes_ me to my very core."

Steve fell silent for a moment. More tears welled up in his eyes, and he buried his face into Tony's arm completely. Steve sobbed.

"What if he-if he never wants to see me again? He's so pretty, Tony. So, so pretty," Steve wailed. Tony looked around at the other patrons in the bar. They were starting to stare. Tony sighed.

"I want to see him," Steve mumbled. Tony didn't think he was serious, but his muscles tensed when Steve braced his hand on the counter, ready to push himself up and off of the stool. Steve stood upright for all of two seconds before he started to sway on his feet. His vision spun. The only clear thought that repeated in his head like a mantra was _I want to see Bucky, I_ need _to see him, I need to explain._

Steve went to step away from the counter, and the floor rushed to meet him. He was just going to let it happen, but something caught at his shoulder. Steve slowly dragged his eyes over to Tony struggling to keep him somewhat upright.

"You're heavier than you look," Tony grunted. "Come on, up you go."

Tony somehow managed to get Steve back up on the stool. By now, most of the patrons were sending sly glances their way. Tony made a particularly rude gesture to a guy who sat a few seats away from them who seem to be staring the both of them down. Tony looked at Steve slouched over on the countertop and sighed.

"Look, Cap-"

"Bucky used to call me Cap."

Tony exhaled sharply through his nose, patience wearing thin. "Because that's your fucking nickname. Look, have you tried to _explain_ to Bucky the reason you wear the ring?"

"Yes, of course I have," Steve sniffled. "But when I tried he just got angry. He didn't-he wouldn't let me."

"'Wouldn't let you'? Has someone not letting you do something stopped you before?" Steve was about to answer, but Tony cut him off. "Rhetorical question, Steve. But seriously, the Steve Rogers I know wouldn't just stand idly by and let someone like that slip through his fingers. He would _do_ something about it."

Steve looked up at him from behind glassy eyes. Tony hated seeing him like this. He knew Steve back in college, and when he broke the news about Peggy, he was just like this: lost and upset with no clear path in mind. Although the situation back then was much more detrimental, Tony couldn't help but feel that the root of Steve's sadness was the same.

"Yeah, you're-you're right," Steve mumbled. He gave a little laugh as he added, " I just hope he doesn't hate me as much as I think he does."


	7. Chapter 7

It was the following Monday after Tony had taken Steve out to the bar—a horrible decision, really, he concluded after he brought Steve back home. Steve had puked his brains out upon returning to his apartment, and Tony didn't leave until Steve emptied his stomach and was in bed—and now Tony was on cafeteria duty. Steve was home "sick" today. Tony looked across the cafeteria and saw Bucky sitting at a table by himself.

He didn't know what made him do it, but Tony got up, strode across the cafeteria, and slid into the seat across from him. Bucky looked up from his gradebook, and his shoulders visibly tensed. Bucky's blue eyes darted back down to his book. After a moment of neither of them speaking, Bucky clenched his jaw.

"Did Steve put you up to this?" He asked vehemently. "If so, I don't want to hear it."

Tony's blood boiled. He was so angry; Bucky hadn't even given Steve a chance to explain and now he was refusing any and all explanation. "Look," Tony started, an edge to his voice. "I'm not trying to preach to the choir or anything, but Steve is really torn up about what happened between the two of you. I would just try to talk to him."

Bucky's fist clenched around his pen. He stared down at his gradebook and the names and numbers started to blur. Steve's name was enough to make his chest go tight and his head to ache; the image of the silver wedding band was branded into the back of his eyes. _How could he do this to me, he was all I ever wanted, never in a million years would I have thought—_

Bucky shook his head to clear it and realized that Tony was still sitting across from him. The auto mechanics teacher slammed his gradebook shut. He pushed back from the table and got up without another word to Tony. The bell rang signaling that the period was over. Bucky absentmindedly weaved his way through the crowds of kids in the hallway, back to his classroom.

The day flew by. His classes were finishing up their last projects for the year, as final exams started next week. Bucky zoned out for the rest of the day with his gradebook out in front of him, but he didn't do much grading. The drive home went by in a blur. It was like he was watching through someone else's eyes as he unlocked the door to his apartment. Bucky checked his phone. He had several messages. A few of them were from Natasha checking up on him. She heard through the grapevine that something wasn't right and wanted to make sure he was okay. Bucky ignored it. Natasha was the last person he wanted to talk about his love life with.

Bucky had other miscellaneous messages, but the thread his eyes hovered over was the one labeled emStevie/em. He hadn't bothered to change the nickname. There were more than a few messages from him that Bucky had received throughout the past week, but consciously chose to ignore. Now that he was alone, the thread seemed to be screaming at him to open it and read the messages.

The first couple of unread messages were similar:

 _[Received from Stevie, Mon June 4, 2:57 pm] Bucky, please let me explain_

 _[Received from Stevie, Mon June 4, 3:15 pm] I know you're mad, but I promise it's not what you thin_ k

 _[Received from Stevie, Mon June 4, 3:24 pm] Pleas_ e

Those were all from the day that Bucky saw the ring on his finger. Steve hadn't sent him anymore messages until that Friday, late at night.

 _[Received from Stevie, Fri June 8, 11:51 pm] Buckyyyy i miss u_

 _[Received from Stevie, Fri June 8, 11:53 pm] i missu an ur lopsided smile an your laugh an ur pretty face_

 _[Received from Stevie, Fri June 8, 11:53 pm] do u hate_

That last message was repeated several times, followed by incoherent key smashes that Bucky couldn't decipher. Bucky figured they were drunk texts, and his chest grew tight as he read the last coherent message over and over again.

Bucky didn't want to hate Steve; in fact, he was almost certain that there was a good reason behind the silver band. Bucky just did what he always did—he jumped too far ahead in conclusion and put up the walls that he was working so hard on to take down.

He wanted nothing more than to go to Steve's apartment and tell him what a mistake he made. Bucky wanted to lay with him, head on Steve's chest with the blond's hand running through his hair.

But what if Bucky had been right? What if Steve emwas /emmarried or engaged? What if Steve was just making shit up just to get back with Bucky and ruin him?

These thoughts circled Bucky's mind for the rest of the night, preventing him from falling asleep. It was past one in the morning when he flung the sheets off of him and jammed his feet into his boots. He stormed out of the bedroom—still in his pajamas—and snatched his keys on the way out the door, not even bothering to lock it behind him.

Bucky stomped down the stairs. He swung the door open leading to the street. There was a slight breeze that stirred the still early summer air that sent a chill down Bucky's spine. He unlocked the driver's side door to his car and lowered himself into the seat in one quick motion. After slamming the door shut and turning the key in the ignition, Bucky sped off.

Taking late night drives was one of Bucky's methods to help clear his head. He had been doing it since college, and it really helped to just drive. He found that his mind was so focused on driving that everything else just seemed to melt away. Bucky rolled the windows down. The wind rushed through the car. That and the hum of the engine was all he heard.

It was late so there really weren't many cars on the road. Bucky was driving faster than he probably should have been; he wasn't sure if that was attributed to his anger and anxiety or the fact that there was no one on the road in front of him.

That's where Bucky Barnes fucked up.

He didn't see the light change from green to red—honest, he didn't. The gas pedal was nearly pressed to the floor of the car, the wind whipping his hair all around his face. Bucky sped across the intersection, but not before two giant headlights shone into his car. Bucky faintly recalled a horn, but at that point it was too late. The cab of the truck already smashed into the driver's side of Bucky's car.

The tail end of the car spun in the direction the truck had been going. Bucky tried to brace himself against something—emanything/em—when the car hit something else that he couldn't see. His head smashed into the back of his seat, arched forward, hitting his head again on what he thought was the wheel. It seemed like the car wasn't going to stop spinning anytime soon until it did. The car spun and came to an abrupt stop against a pole.

Immense pain shot up his back and his arms. What must've been blood dripped down his face, his arms, his neck. He felt like he couldn't breathe, couldn't move, and he promptly threw up the contents of his stomach.

His mouth was dry and tasted like metal. Bucky couldn't see anything; all the lights on his car were out. His vision swam before him so that there were three steering wheels in front of him instead of one.

When the ringing in his ears finally stopped, Bucky realized he was screaming his throat raw. He was dead, he was dead, _he was dead_.He had to be. There was no possible way he was alive after what he thought just happened. Or maybe this was a dream. Maybe he was actually back in Steve's bed, and everything since last Monday had been one terribly long nightmare.

Bucky found himself crying. When had that started? Somewhere he heard shouts and sirens, but they sounded far off and tinny. Everything was numb. Bucky's eyes started to close.

He fought to keep them open. This was not how he wanted to die. Not like this—not leaving things the way they were with Steve.

 _Steve_ , Bucky thought amongst everything that was sending shock waves to his brain. That was his last thought before everything went dark.

* * *

It was promptly 2:37 in the morning when Steve got a call from Nick Fury.

At first, Steve thought his ringing phone was a part of his dream. Then he realized that it was in fact emnot/empart of his dream, and he rolled over to snatch his phone off his nightstand. Steve accepted the call without looking at the caller ID.

"Hello, Steve," came Fury's voice through the speaker. Steve looked at the clock and saw what time it was. He groaned.

"Can't this wait til morning?" Steve asked, voice rough with sleep.

"No, Rogers, it can't."

Even though Fury was serious all of the time, something about the edge to his voice raised a red flag for Steve. After a moment of silence, Fury sighed.

"I know you and Barnes aren't together at the moment," he started. "But I got a call a few minutes ago saying that he was in an accident. He doesn't have any immediate family, so they called me—"

"Steve shot up in bed. Fury was still talking but he wasn't listening. Every muscle in Steve's body tensed as he stared at the wall opposite him, wide-eyed.

"He _what_? What happened? Is he alright?" Steve was frantic. What had Bucky been doing out so late? Where the hell had he been going?

""All I know is that he's at the hospital over on 8supth/sup, and that they're performing surgery—"

" _Surgery_?" Steve's voice cracked as he jumped to his feet. He sandwiched his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he raced to get his shoes on.

"Yes, surgery. They're not going to let you see him until tomorrow, you know," Fury replied sternly, as if he knew Steve was already halfway out the door. A moment passed where neither of them said anything. Steve hung up just as Fury started to talk again.

The blond slammed the door shut. Hands shaking, he fumbled with his keyring and managed to lock the door. Steve's mind reeled as he raced down the stairs to his car. Nothing was making sense to him anymore, so Steve thought it best not to think and to just _do_.

Which is exactly what he did. The drive over to the hospital was a blur to him. It was like one second, he was on the sidewalk unlocking his car, and the next he was rushing into the lobby of the emergency wing of the hospital. The blonde woman at the desk seemed startled when she saw the state in which Steve was in; his hair was disheveled from sleeping on it, and his pajama pants pooled around his sneakers. The dark circles under his eyes must've offset the nurse too. His eyes flitted to the ID tag on the lanyard around her neck; her name was Sharon.

"Hi," Steve breathed. "I'm here for Bucky Barnes."

Without a word, she typed the name into the computer. When it came up, Sharon visibly winced. "He's in the operating room at the moment. Only family members are allowed back there to speak to the doctors—"

Steve cut her off, panic rising in his chest. "I need to seem him, I need to make sure he's okay."

"I can't let you. You're going to have to wait, sir," Sharon replied levelly.

Steve's brow furrowed and clenched his jaw. He looked between Sharon and the doors leading to the rest of the emergency wing. Without hesitation, Steve bolted towards the doors.

Before the doors swung shut, Steve heard the sound of Sharon's chair rolling backwards as she got up to yell, "Security!"

Steve didn't know where exactly he was trying to get to; he started to follow the signs that pointed him in the direction of the operating rooms. He rounded the corner and nearly missed running head on into a group of nurses. Steve apologized quickly over his shoulder to them and carried on running.

This was crazy. Things like running through a hospital to get to your injured ex-boyfriend only happened on those garbage soap operas that they played during the day when everyone was at work. But this was real. The adrenaline coursing through Steve's veins was real. His need to see Bucky was real.

This train of thought was broken when Steve was pushed into the wall which caused him to hit his head. Steve grunted in pain and opened his eyes to find two stocky security guards in front of him. Steve stared at the two of them and tried to shake them off, but the one guard had a vice grip on his shoulder. Steve wasn't going anywhere.

"Sir, we really can't have you back here," the one with the hand on his shoulder sighed, exasperated. "We understand that you want to see whoever it is that's here, but you're going to have to wait."

He pulled Steve off of the wall. The other guard grabbed his upper arm, and the two of them guided him back the way he had come. They had made it back to the lobby, and the guards cornered Steve into a chair. They stood there for a few prolonged moments, making sure Steve wasn't going to run again. When they were sure he was going to stay put, they walked off, mumbling to each other about impatient people.

Sharon raised an eyebrow at him from behind the counter. "Don't try that again." Steve nodded and quickly looked away.

Steve thought it would be a good idea to go back home and come back later in the day when he was allowed to see Bucky. But if he went home Steve knew he wasn't going to sleep. If he went to work he knew that nothing he wouldn't be able to focus; Steve felt guilty about that, because finals emwere /emcoming up, but he couldn't help it. Steve knew his anxiety would not lessen until he saw with his own two eyes that Bucky Barnes was alive and well.

Steve resorted to staying in that waiting room until he was allowed to see him. Patients came and went, and Sharon helped get them in to see a doctor. Once someone was rolled in on a gurney. Steve didn't realize he had been dozing, because the next thing he knew, a nurse had tapped his shoulder to wake him up.

"You wanted to see Mr. Barnes, right?" she asked politely. It wasn't Sharon, but another nurse. Suddenly, Steve was wide awake. He nodded to answer her question.

"Follow me, please."

Steve clumsily stood up from his chair and followed the nurse through the doors he had run through earlier. Neither of them spoke as the two of them wound through the halls. The nurse turned down a hall that pointed in the direction of the ICU wing. Steve's nerves flared.

The nurse stopped outside of the room. There were four slots next to the door, one of them filled with a card that read emBarnes /emin neat handwriting. Steve's heartbeat pounded in his ears.

"He's not going to be awake for a while, but you can go in and see him, Mr…" she trailed off.

"Rogers. Steve," he added quickly. "My name's Steve."

"Steve, okay," she replied. She looked up at him, her brow upturned and a sad look in her eyes. "I think they told you that he was in a car accident, right? Well, he's not all…there."

Steve stared at her in confusion. Without asking her to elaborate, he opened the door and quietly made his way into the room. It was set up with four beds total, the ones closest to the door devoid of patients, as well as the one in the far right-hand corner. The bed in the far left-hand corner was occupied. A thin gray curtain separated the bed from the rest of the room. The lights were off, and the blinds over the windows were open. Sunlight poured through the large windows. Steve tip-toed his way towards the occupied bed. When Steve peeked around the curtain, he had to press his hand against his mouth to stifle his gasp of shock.

Bucky was asleep, and the bed was inclined so that he was sitting somewhat upright. His brown hair was knotted and tangled around his face. A line of stitches swooped from the end of his left eyebrow to the top of the curve of his cheek. His other cheek was shadowed with bruises, and his lip was split. IVs ran in his right arm. Steve's eyes zeroed in on Bucky's left arm—or rather, what was left of his left arm.

A bloodied bandage wrapped around what would have been his bicep. Steve could see bits of scarring skin peeking out from above the bandage. The blond nearly fell over but caught himself on the frame of the bed before he lost his balance.

"Steve bit his lip to keep him from crying out. Quietly, he slipped over to the left side of the bed and knelt down. He reached for Bucky's hand and held it lightly while leaning his head in his other hand. Silent tears streamed down his face. It took all his might not to scream.

He felt the nurse's eyes watch him from the doorway. A moment later, her footsteps faded down the hall. Steve grasped Bucky's hand tighter and looked up at his face.

"I'm sorry," Steve said, barely above a whisper. " _I'm sorry_."


	8. Chapter 8

Bucky's entire body felt like lead.

He forced his eyes open and for a moment, all he could see was white. He vaguely remembered what had happened to him, and his first coherent thought was that he was dead. Bucky's vision began to focus, and he could make out ceiling tiles and fluorescent lighting.

He heard the beeping of a heart rate monitor next to him and was aware that he was in a hospital. All he could remember were the two headlights and the sound of tires squealing against asphalt.

Bucky slowly turned his head. His neck was stiff, and it hurt to move too quickly. His breathing came labored with the effort. The brunet managed to turn his head to the left. The first thing that he noticed was that his shoulder was all bandaged up. Bucky's eyes shot down and looked for the rest of his arm, but he found that it wasn't there.

A muffled shout escaped his throat. His breathing became more panicked now; what the hell had happened to him? Bucky reached his shaking hand over to the stump of his arm, and his fingers grazed the bandages. He felt his throat go tight and he swallowed the feeling. This couldn't be real, this couldn't _be happening_. He brought his hand back to his side. Bucky then brought his eyes up, and his heart stopped when he took in the sleeping form of Steve Rogers propped up in a chair next to his bed.

Bucky was at full awareness now. Steve was fast asleep, slightly slumping forward in the chair with his arms folded across his chest. His blond hair was messy and stuck up in different directions. It caught the sunlight streaming in from the window behind him, turning his hair gold. His brow was creased in worry and his mouth was slightly parted. Steve was dressed in a plain white t-shirt that hugged his torso, rumpled blue jeans, and a wrinkled black zip hoodie. Bucky's eyes darted to Steve's right hand and found that the silver band was absent. A pang of guilt shot through him.

Before he had time to process anything about Steve, Bucky heard the door open softly followed by two pairs of footsteps. Bucky slowly turned his head to the right. Natasha came up to his bedside, followed by Tony Stark.

Every muscle in his body tensed. What the hell was Stark doing here? Bucky's eyes flitted between Nat and Tony, but he didn't say a word. Natasha sighed.

"James," Natasha said in way of greeting. The name sounded foreign—but not all together strange. Besides his family, only Natasha called him James. The redhead played with the end of his blanket as Tony looked between Bucky and Steve in the chair. Tony huffed in laughter.

"What happened to me?" Bucky rasped.

Tony and Natasha shared a look before Natasha began to explain in a hushed voice. "You were in an accident. Mind you, you blew right through a red light so you're going to have to own up to that. Anyways, your car spun out and wrapped around a telephone pole. The doctors said your left arm was caught between parts of the car and the pole, and well…I think you know how that went."

Bucky eyed his left shoulder and nearly jumped out of his skin looking at it again. Obviously, he wasn't used to looking down only to find that his arm was missing. He brought his eyes back up and stared at Steve, who was still sound asleep in the chair.

"Fury received the news first," Tony said suddenly, causing Bucky to wheel his head around to look at the chemistry teacher. "Steve was the first one Fury called. He was here in a heartbeat."

Again, Bucky looked at Steve. If only he had let the blond explain, maybe he wouldn't be caught in such a mess right now. He wouldn't have been mad, he wouldn't have gone for a drive, he wouldn't have blown that red light, and he wouldn't be lying in this hospital bed, if he had just let Steve talk to him about it.

But the fact that Steve had gotten to him as soon as humanly possible made Bucky's chest grow tight. Even after the brunet had attempted to completely shut him out, Steve was still there for him. Tears threatened to spill down his face, and Bucky fought to hold them back. Natasha moved gracefully so that she was sitting on the edge of the bed to his left, and she embraced him. Bucky leaned his head on her shoulder and cried silently.

They sat like that for a few minutes as Tony awkwardly shuffled from foot to foot, unsure of what to do. He cleared his throat loudly, and Natasha pulled away from Bucky. He wiped at his eyes.

"I have to go now, they could only give me half the day off," Natasha rolled her eyes as she collected herself. "I'll be back to check in on you later this week. Don't die on me."

Her tone was flippant, but Bucky knew that she meant well. She waved to Tony, and then she walked out of the room. Tony still stood at the foot of the bed and pulled something out of his pocket. He handed it to Bucky; it was a business card.

"I have friends who specialize in making high-grade prosthetics," Tony started. "Just in case you were thinking about getting one."

Bucky looked at the card. In silver lettering it read _Wakanda Tech_ with the address and name of the head of the business. Bucky placed it on the table next to his bed.

"Thanks, Tony," he said softly.

"Don't mention it. Well, I gotta go too," Tony replied. "Hope to see you back soon, Barnes."

Tony was already halfway out the door when Bucky mumbled, "Yeah, me too."

A few moments of silence stretched in the hospital room. Nurses and doctors scurried around outside of his room, but other than that and the thrum of the many machines hooked up to Bucky, everything was quiet. So, Bucky nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard Steve shuffle around in his chair. The brunet's eyes fixed on him, and the heart rate monitor beside him beeped faster. What was Steve going to say to him? What was he going to say _back_? Bucky's hand clenched into a fist so tight that his nails dug into his palm.

The blond rolled his neck, and his eyes fluttered open. If it weren't for the monitor beeping, Bucky would've thought his heart had stopped. Steve held Bucky's stare for what felt like an eternity. Steve's eyes cleared of grogginess, and realization was in his gaze instead. Bucky was awake. A watery smile split his features in two.

Steve hastily got up from his chair and sat himself down on the edge of Bucky's bed. Without warning, he pulled Bucky's head against his chest, one hand on his right shoulder and the other bracing the base of Bucky's head. Bucky wasn't sure what to make of this when he felt Steve's chest shudder with sobs. Steve pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Steve chanted wearily. "Buck, I'm _so sorry_."

Bucky gently pulled away and looked up at the blond, placing his hand on Steve's. "What are you apologizing for?"

"For making you feel the way you did. I just—I scared you off with my ring, and I should've told you about it," Steve paused for a moment. He cast his eyes down and, and he swallowed hard. "When I got that call from Fury…I thought I'd lost you for good."

Both of them were silent for a moment. More guilt shot through Bucky at the mention of the silver band; it was so stupid of him to assume something without first confronting Steve about it. He leaned his head forward on Steve's chest again.

"If anyone has to be sorry, it should be me," Bucky mumbled into Steve's shirt. "I must've broken you down pretty badly for you to drunk text me."

Bucky felt Steve's chest shake with laughter. "Yeah, well, that's partly on Tony. He took me out. I told him it wasn't a good idea, but I went with him anyways."

Another moment of awkward silence passed between them. Bucky heaved a sigh and sat back from Steve. The blond hastily moved his hands from off of Bucky and on top his lap. The two of them looked at each other for a minute, before Bucky looked down at his left shoulder.

"Look," he started wearily. "As much as I want things to go back to 'normal', I don't know how much of 'normal' we can achieve. If…if you don't want to get back together—"

"No," Steve interrupted him abruptly. "We will make this work. I promise you."

A small smile tugged at Bucky's lips at the sheer determination in Steve's voice. But then, Bucky worried his lower lip between his teeth. _I don't deserve him, I don't deserve him, I don't—_

"Hey," Steve said softly. "It's going to be okay."

For once, Bucky thought so too.


End file.
